


You're My Religion

by orphan_account



Series: He is Fast And Thorough, As Sharp as a Tack [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, D/s elements, Knotting, Lots of Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He grins and throws his hands out, latching one onto Derek's bicep and the other on Derek's opposite shoulder. “I'm glad you like the present,” he says quietly, “I love it when you're like this.” Stiles looks him up and down in appreciation, smirking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Religion

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to I’m Gonna Love You With My Hands Tied, but can be read alone.
> 
> I don’t always write gratutious amounts of smut in one day, but when I do I write about men in ladies’ underwear.
> 
> Also, the usual, for Chiara, lalala
> 
> Almost forgot! Based on [this photoset](http://dailydoseofsmut.tumblr.com/post/30406062131), haha.

Stiles is, unabashedly and unashamedly, a sucker for Derek Hale. They're dating—almost a year now—so it's not as though it's unexpected for them to be head over heels for each other, but when Stiles thinks about it, it's pretty freaking awesome. When he thinks about it and looks at Jackson and Lydia, who almost are and almost aren't with Danny on the side; when he thinks about it and looks at Alison and Scott, who are most definitely off, probably-maybe-really not forever, but still. Stiles knows things don't always come easy, especially with love and feelings and that shit.

So, he's astounded and thankful that for all their issues and arguments, they've never once gone to the edge of breaking up.

Stiles likes to thinks the sex helps a lot.

It seems kind of silly to say, and maybe makes them like an old married couple, but they're very open in the bedroom. Sure, Derek can barely use his words sometimes, and Stiles usually uses too many. But, they make it work. They discuss things, and plan things, they're happy and content and it's great. Mostly, the have pretty tame sex—simply in interesting places or positions, like the back of Stiles' Jeep and against a tree near the Hale house. Those things alone provide a heady rush of adrenaline.

Sometimes, though, they splurge. Derek will indulge Stiles in a quickie with the rest of the pack downstairs, or Derek will suck him off under his desk, with his dad talking right outside his bedroom door. They've tried numerous roleplays, costumes, scenarios—Derek in assless chaps is still one of Stiles' most used fodder files. They've sexted and cybered and had late night, hushed and needy phonecalls.

Fuck, they even made a _video_ that's _still_ saved deep within the confines of Stiles' external hard drive.

So, yeah, Stiles is pretty sure that what keeps them together is the sex: the crazy and kinky and tender and _sweet_ , all of it, it's important. Or at least, _Cosmo_ tells him it's important.

Where was he going with this?

Uh.

Oh yeah.

It's because Stiles understands how important sex is for them, as young men and as a fundamental part of their relationship, that Stiles is sitting in a almost too small desk chair, pressed up against Derek (who's the main reason the chair is too small) scanning page after page of men's lingerie.

(Well, it's women's lingerie designed to fit men.)

“You know, we could just take the laptop to the bed.”

“I like being close to you.”

Stiles smiles, and elbows Derek lightly. “We'll still be close on the bed. I'll sit in your lap if you want me to.”

Derek smirks at that, eyes focused on the screen. “You'll try and distract me.” He mentions a few minutes later.

Stiles scoffs. “Are you insinuating that I don't want to dress up in slinky sexy lingerie for you?” Stiles puts on his best 'offended girlfriend' face. “I do, I want this _a lot_.” And with that, he stands and takes the laptop into his own hands. Derek follows him to the bed, and just as promised Stiles gets comfortable in Derek's lap.

The site is tragically lacking in especially sexy things for men; there are some that catch their eyes, but not much. It isn't until Stiles takes over the touchpad and clicks on 'Camisoles' on the side that Derek jerks against him. Stiles smirks. “Is this what you want?” He asks, coy and so much more confident than he could ever hope to be.

Derek nods, and his eyes hungrily look over the pages. Stiles is more intent on watching Derek than the clothes, so he doesn't realize Derek has clicked to something else until he feels Derek's cock, warm and pressing against his back through their clothes. “What is it?” Stiles asks, turning his head.

He swallows, and licks his lips.

Derek has clicked to the page marked 'Babydolls' and Stiles feels a hot flush run through him.

“I could be into that, definitely.” Stiles agrees. Derek's voice rumbles in his chest, and the laptop is said aside for desperate rutting.

)

Stiles spends the next week desperately raiding through all the lingerie sites he can find, cock half hard and mouth dry. Eventually, he finds the perfect one, the perfect little.. _outfit_.

)

It takes some careful planning to actually get the thing shipped to him—he takes Derek's credit card and returns it on the sly, he has to make sure he gets all the male lest his dad accidentally sign for the package and get curious (as Stilinskis are known to do.)

But, it's worth it, so so very worth it.

)

His hands shake as he clicks Derek's number on his phone; for all they talked and obsessed over the lingerie, as far as camisoles and babydolls went, Derek had been surprisingly... _not_ proactive with getting the show on the road. So, Stiles told himself this was for the good of their relationship, and by proxy all of mankind.

And his dick, that was a good bonus too.

“Stiles?” Derek sounds out of breath, like he's been working out. Which he probably has.

“Hey, I've got something you should look at.”

“You aren't hurt,” it's a question, Stiles knows that, even though it doesn't sound like one.

Stiles laughs. “Nah, it's kind of important though so—?”

Derek has hung up before Stiles even finished speaking. Stiles stares at his phone, before figuring he might as well charge it while he's getting fucked, right? He bends over to where the end of his charger is lying on the ground, and has just straightened when he feels a bare chest plaster to his back.

“You took no time.”

“I thought you were hurt, or in trouble.”

“Did I sound like it?” Stiles asks, only a tad sour. Derek shakes his head and kisses apologetically at Stiles' jaw.

“No, but I never know with you. You're dating an alpha werewolf, after all.”

Stiles laughs, and loops his arms up around Derek's neck. “You gotta stop if you wanna see your present.” Derek hums eagerly against his pulse point, and leans back to look Stiles up and down. His nostrils flare, and he looks _antsy_ , desperate. “You like?” Stiles asks, stepping away from Derek to do a little spin, the hem of the loose babydoll flaring up and resting again, brushing his upper thighs. They hand maybe three inches past the band of the panties, almost falling past the bulge of his cock but not quite.

Derek licks his lips. “When.. how..”

Stiles bites back the instinctive 'use your words' and answers easily, “your credit card, online, careful planning.” His hands fall to the white lace hem and he holds it up, revealing black, lacy, see-through panties. “It was a set, pretty cheap. I'll pay you back in a few days.”

Derek bares his teeth but it isn't violent. “No, no,” he says, and Stiles just shrugs.

“Okay.” He turns, smirking, and shows off the string that stretches across the small of his back, adorned with an off-white bow.

Derek whimpers, Stiles' favorite sound.

“C'mon,” Stiles says softly, “c'mon.”

Derek picks him up by the thighs, just under the babydoll, and tosses him onto the bed before climbing over him, covering and slotting their bodies from head to toe. Stiles moans before Derek even kisses him, and when Derek does kiss him Stiles moans louder. Derek's fingers start out eager and greedy, fast and dying to get under the thing clothes.

Dull nails go straight for Stiles' nipples, rubbing the fabric of the lingerie into them before sliding under and pinching them taut and pink.

Stiles lays back and lets it happen, because this is exactly what he wanted, for Derek to take control and ultimately lose his _mind_ over the pleasure. And Derek does, pretty face if the fact that Stiles didn't even see him take off his pants is anything to go by.

“You weren't wearing _underwear_ , Jesus _Christ_.” Stiles moans, covering his face for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

“Couldn't be bothered to.” Derek rumbles.

Stiles wants to ask—what if this had been trouble, and emergency, dangerous? But he doesn't, because Derek is sitting on his haunches and tugging Stiles' hips up. Stiles locks his knees over Derek's shoulder, still pressed to Derek except for his shoulders pressed to the bed. Derek nuzzles his dick through the panties and tongues the thinner parts of the lace, tongues Stiles' dick. He sucks at the head through the fabric and swallows noisily on the precome.

Stiles' face is burning and he's obviously wound up; he keeps counting back from twenty five to gain some semblance of control over himself.

“Derek,” Stiles rasps because it's too much, too fast.

Derek growls around his dick, but relents. Instead, he turns Stiles over and scoots back to admire the new view. Stiles is simply thankful for the opportunity to bury his flaming red face in the cool of the pillows.

He starts and yelps when Derek's hands land on the curve of his ass, rubbing and pressing at he skin, tugging and snapping at the panties. Derek pushes the hem of the babydoll up to Stiles' midback, and focuses all of his attention on Stiles' ass. His rubs his hands over it, and Stiles catches the distinct murmur of _mine_ falling from Derek's lips.

Stiles squeaks and it flows into a moan and Derek grabs his ass, and pulls the cheeks apart. The panties take an uncomfortable turn, and Stiles doesn't even need to say anything before Derek is all but ripping them down his thighs.

Stiles sighs in relief. “Do it fast, c'mon,” it's like a command, Derek obeys and he always gets a treat. “I want it _now_.” Derek whines, a keen in the back of his mouth that makes Stiles' toes curl.

Stiles' face is still pressed into the pillows, and he's comfortable to stay that way; Derek has other plans, and flips him over again. Stiles makes a small noise of protest, but can't do much else when two slippery fingers run along the crack of his ass, and slip to his already stretched muscles.

“Jesus, _Stiles_.”

Because, fuck yeah, Stiles is the best boyfriend ever. He's wearing ladies underwear _and_ he stretched himself open for his boyfriend. Stiles throws his head back and moans through his cheeky grin. Derek pulls out his fingers and licks them clean, smothering Stiles' laugh-moan-thing with a smolder.

“ _Now_ ,” Stiles says again, as payback.

Derek isn't going to disagree and they both know it; Stiles melts into the bed, hands clenched in the sheets and toes curling even more as Derek takes one slow thrust to seat himself fully. Already, Stiles can feel the hint of the knot, red hot skin. Stiles knows he's going to let Derek knot him tonight; it happens almost each time now, which Stiles kind of wonders about. It's all tender, and sweet, and deliciously perfect—and Stiles kind of thinks there's more than just dating and being in love. But that's Derek's secret to tell him, so he'll wait. Impatiently of course, but he's going to wait all the same.

Derek wastes no time in picking up a rhythm, the perfect mix of brutally relentless and giving Stiles everything he needs. Derek grabs at Stiles' dick, pulling and jerking him each time he pulls out. Stiles shudders, eyes locking momentarily on the way one leg is thrown over Derek's shoulder and how the panties are hanging from his ankle.

He grins and throws his hands out, latching one onto Derek's bicep and the other on Derek's opposite shoulder. “I'm glad you like the present,” he says quietly, “I love it when you're like this.” Stiles looks him up and down in appreciation, smirking.

Derek's thrusting falters for only a moment before doubling in pace and power. His hands abandon Stiles' cock in favor of pulling him by the hips to meet each thrust, and each time the knot comes that much closer to slipping inside. Stiles moans, the worst pitch he could imagine but Derek savors the sounds, wringing them from Stiles' kiss-swollen mouth on each inward thrust.

Derek groans, and Stiles glares momentarily because he knows the sound, knows it in every variation and pitch and volume—Derek's close, _so_ close.

Stiles reaches up and fists a hand in Derek's hair, “don't come until your knot is inside me,” Stiles commands. It's an odd contrast, and they realize this—the power that shifts between them in the bedroom and always ends up in Stiles' hands. It works for them, though, it's perfect. “Give it to me, Derek,” Stiles spreads his legs invitingly.

Derek does, he thrusts one more time and forces himself inside, knot large and hot, burning Stiles from the inside out. Stiles moans loud and pinches himself to keep grounded. Derek huffs his own desperate groans, hips jerking and starting, unable to pull out and unable to go in further. Stiles grins.

“You can come now, Derek, go ahead.” Stiles tells him, legs still open wide. He focuses on the feeling of the knot inside him, thick and filling, rolling and moving and pressing hard into all the right spots. Derek's hands leave his hips and he presses them into the bedding on the sides of Stiles' head, using the leverage to thrust as best he can. Stiles rides the feeling, sliding with each little thrust, jerking his own cock quickly and messily.

“Stiles, Stiles, _fuck_ , Stiles,” it falls like a mantra from Derek's mouth, hot breath covering Stiles' face. Stiles nods, eyes closed and mouth open and he works his hips for more friction. “Gonna come, Stiles, god,” the 'o' is drawn out as Derek drops to his elbows and kisses Stiles hard on the lips. One more flick of stuttering hips, and Stiles feels the rush of come filling him, and the knot keeping it locked inside him. Stiles cries out, and bites down on Derek's upper lip as he comes, spilling over his hand and their stomachs and the hem of the babydoll.

They catch their breath and share it between open mouthed kisses; Stiles grins and laughs softly as he holds Derek close. “This is gonna be a thing, huh? I might need to get a subscription to that website's magazine, huh?”

Derek smirks—it's actually more of a smile, but Stiles calls it a smirk to protect Derek's manly sensibilities. Stiles feels him mouth _'thank you'_ against his shoulder. Stiles just settles into the bed, knowing that regardless of what they want they'll be stuck like this for a while, so Stiles lets himself drift off to the sound of Derek appreciating him in hushed tones.


End file.
